Through his eyes
by JSafrica
Summary: Severus Snape has led the saddest life of all the characters. This story takes you through the world as he sees it. From his painful childhood memories, to the first time he met that insolent Harry Potter, to the last time he looked upon those green eyes.
1. His first memory

**Author's notes and disclaimer-- Like many I was so deeply touched by Snape's story when I read the Deathly Hallows that I felt the need to explore his character further in my own mind. This story is my first ever attempt at writing anything that isn't a screenplay and I appreciate constructive critisism! I own no characters or anything I've stolen from good old JK's world, although one day I hope to own something similar! :P**

If Severus Snape had ever been forced to recall his first memory, his mind would have taken him back to a small, neglected house on the outskirts of a Northern English town.

A building, which the wizard had called home for the first 11 years of his life and which would hold many bitter memories in the years laying ahead of the boy, encased a sobbing dark haired witch who appeared to be in her early twenties; a hook-nosed, hostile looking muggle man, whose face bore the tell-tale lines of being 'middle aged;' and a thin, sallow boy who at the age of four, could easily have been mistaken for one much younger, had it not been for the white birthday cake in the centre of the room with four lit-up candles dancing on the icing. The woman, as Snape would remember her that day, was the embodiment of sorrow. Limp folds of hair stuck to the tear-stricken pale face as she stood facing her husband, arms at the side of her rake-like body, rasping.

"You've ruined it! You ruin everything! Anything you touch! You are nothing! You've.. you…" words failing her she rose a wand to the throat of the man she had been so elated to marry only 5 years ago. Before she had the chance to utter the spell that had formed on her tongue, the hand of the boy's father rose up and smacked her across the face. The hand made to grab her throat as his other hand went for her wand. As her only means of defence was stolen from her hand, the woman let out a cry of what the young boy would remember as a mixture of terror and rage.

"Mummy" he whimpered from the corner of the room. He gasped in fright as his father snapped the wand that his mother had used to paint bedtime stories for him, had used to heal his grazes when he fell over in the back garden, had used only yesterday to protect the child from his father as the man staggered towards him full of rage because Severus had somehow managed to cause the television, that the man was so attached to, to implode. His father's eyes flashed with madness as he struck the woman in the stomach, and again round the face. The witch cried out with pain, and as she crumpled to the floor Severus ran out of the room, hands over his ears to keep out the sounds of his mother's sobs of pain as the giant man proceeded to teach her how the effects of a crucio curse could be achieved without the use of magic.


	2. Daydreams are the best dreams

Severus Snape looked as a child, very much the combination of his parents. His thin frame, black eyes and stringy dark hair resembled his mother's. The hooked nose and his height were both attributes of his father. Growing up in a household where funds were tight and he wasn't considered a great priority meant that his clothes were always too big, mismatched and generally resembled the jumble sale they usually came from.

Severus' eighth birthday found him sat alone by the river that ran near his housing estate, wearing a weathered green coat that was a gift from his mother on his special day. Special day hah! He snorted at the idea that a birthday was anything but a day that ended in arguments and insults and his father using his mother as a punch bag. The wizard had been sitting, staring moodily at the water since 7 that morning. He had spent so much of his short life in that secluded spot, daydreaming of the school that would one day take him away from this place, that Eileen Snape knew exactly where to find her son when she wanted to give him his birthday present. The witch, who was beautiful in a way that muggles in their small town called 'intriguing,' knew that the gift wasn't much, so wasn't overly surprised when her son didn't squeal with delight at his birthday present. Despite herself she couldn't help but being disappointed with the look of indifference on her son's face as he unwrapped the gift. Always polite however, he thanked his mother, and Eileen was grateful that her son at least seemed to enjoy the warmth of the oversized coat against the bitter cold of the January morning. With the gentlest touch of the shoulder she left her son to return to the house. Severus didn't look up as his mother walked away. Instead he resumed his daydream about Hogwarts. His mother had told him all about the school. Bedtime stories had always been tales of her schooldays- secret passages and mid-night feasts, quidditch and duelling, portraits that could talk, owls for post men, potions that could give you good luck, professors who could turn into animals.. Severus particularly liked the idea of the bottled luck. Luck was one of the things he had decided would just always avoid him, luck along with all other children and his own father. His mother had enrolled him at the local primary school when he'd turned five, however, after a few of the other children had teased him for looking like a vampire because of his long black hair, they'd all found that they'd mysteriously sprouted their own vampire like fangs. After that the other children wouldn't go near him and his mother elected to home school him instead. His father decided there and then that there was absolutely no hope for him and he would turn into the exact weirdo his mother was.

His mother spoke with such yearning in her voice when she talked about Hogwarts and the wizzarding world that Severus often wondered why she chose to live like a muggle in a muggle house with a muggle for a husband. If he ever questioned her though her sharp features would ice over and irritated she would dismiss him as an ignorant child who couldn't possibly understand. She'd go quiet, and when Severus learnt that questioning why she'd left it all behind meant the cessation of the tales of Hogwarts and magic, he quickly learnt to stop asking.

His mother hadn't done magic for four years. There was a lot she hadn't done for four years. As he stared out over the water he tried to remember the fiery witch he had vague recollections of. He had dreams sometimes of her beaming face laughing, of her hugging his small form to her chest, of her performing magic just to make him smile. But he concluded there was no truth in these dreams, the pained, nervous woman who was his mother could never be a person so.. happy..

He knew she was intelligent, she'd told him how this thing called the 'sorting hat' had told her so on her first day at Hogwarts. The hat, when placed upon her head had remarked how her sharp mind and tenacity would make her a perfect Ravenclaw. She often observed that with his intelligence he would easily be sorted into Ravenclaw when he went to Hogwarts. Severus however, quietly preferred the idea of Slytherin. The house bred great wizards he knew. It encouraged ambition and supremacy; he imagined that in Slytherin the other students wouldn't dare to cross his path. He'd command a respect for being in the most powerful house. He was adamant he would not end up like his mother. He would not allow himself to be weak at the hands of another person. He shivered a little and hugged the heavy coat more tightly around his shoulders. Three years, that's all he had to wait, three years, then everything would be different.


	3. A child's cut is the deepest

He was furious. Severus had never felt anger quite like it. He could feel blood rushing through his ears, feel it pulsing through his temples. He was dizzy with rage. He forced his throat to strangle the scream threatening to erupt from the deepest place within his body. He ran from his house, the fury that was threatening to choke him, to suffocate him was also the fuel that wouldn't let his legs stop running. After about a mile when he'd reached an isolated field his legs gave in, he buckled and fell to the ground. His body was wracked with sobs, bitter tears of agony streamed down his face dripping from his nose and chin. He was disgusted with himself for crying because of her, he hated her, he HATED her! He didn't care what she thought, pathetic, vile, weak she was barely an excuse for a witch so why did she make him feel such anguish. Despite himself he wailed into the night, he had no-one. It was too much. He clawed at his skin, scratching at his stomach, his arms, trying to rid himself of the pain. He was never going back, never going home to them. After a while he found the sickening anger receded a little and his sobs calmed down. He allowed himself to think again of what had happened. His parents had been sat in the living room, his Dad watching the television, his Mum leaning against him reading a book. Severus noted that they looked more harmonious than usual, like a happily married couple even. He decided then that it would be the perfect moment to ask his parents, well his mother, if he'd be able to have a couple of spell books for his ninth birthday. He figured that if he could learn the theory of all the basic spells before he went to Hogwarts then he'd be much more advanced than his fellow school mates when putting the spells into practice.

"Mum. Muuuumm! You're not listening to me!"

" Mmmm. What's that darling?"

"Spell books. I said I want, I would like please" the boy corrected himself, "spell books for my birthday."

Severus noticed that his Dad had stopped watching the TV, his eyes were now fixated on his young son. He couldn't figure out the look etched upon the man's face. Scorn perhaps?

"Well" Severus spoke impatiently, although wary now of the danger signs beginning to form in his Father's profile. "What do you think?"

"No." It was his father who spoke.

"I wasn't asking you" Severus bit sharply before he could stop himself. "Why would I care what a stupid muggle says I can or can't do."

"WHAT did you call me?!" his father roared now standing.

"I was _talking_ to Mum, we're the ones who can do magic, you're just-" but Severus had stopped talking. His father had been so engulfed with rage at his son's insolence it was like he had been rooted to the spot for a moment, but now he was lunging for his son, heavy arms out in front of him. It was his mother's hand, however, that caught him, that slapped him hard across the floor before his Dad could reach him. Stunned, he looked up into the dark black eyes of his mother. The woman who had defended her son from her husband so many times, who had often jumped in front of him to save him from his Father's wrath of fury, and who had bore the bruises almost as evidence of alliance with her son, had just knocked him across the room.

"Shut up!" she screeched although no-one was talking. "How _dare _you talk to him like that in our house! Get out! OUT!!"

Severus had scrambled from the room, from the house, without even bothering to grab his coat. He lay there now looking up at the stars that were beginning to appear in the late afternoon December sky. It was cold, even for winter, he wondered if it would snow. He wondered what would happen to him, who would find him in the morning, his body like ice under a motionless sheet of crisp white. He wiped the tears from his face. Red tears? He must be bleeding. He dabbed at his nose with his sleeve. How could she choose that monster over him? Life didn't get worse than this he knew, he could never ever feel more pain than he did right now. It would be impossible.


	4. The witch on the nice side of town

Severus woke up. He blinked furiously trying to work out where he was. There were thousands of tiny lights shining before his eyes. Where on earth was he? Cold was biting at every inch of his body, he realised now that the tiny lights were stars. He'd fallen asleep outside in the field, but he'd woken up here too. No-one had found him. How long had he been unconscious for? It must be almost morning, maybe even a couple of days had passed by now. He sat up slowly, wincing at the stiffness of his body. He was too cold to stay here and wait to be found he decided, so he headed off towards a group of houses nearby. He planned to walk amongst the houses until someone found him, a wizard maybe even, and asked him if he was okay. The houses were much nicer than the one he lived in, they were on the nice side of town. He realised as he walked amongst the homes that it must be evening as most of the houses had their lights on. He could see into living rooms and bedrooms. People watching TV and decorating their Christmas trees and eating dinner and levitating a book and-

"levitating?" he gasped to himself as he peered through the window of a particularly nice house where a young girl, about his age he imagined, looked to be using all of her concentration to lift a book a few inches into the air just with the power of her mind. Her parents looked awkward, not surprised exactly, but like they were quite unsure of what to do. Muggles he thought to himself decidedly, as he found himself rolling his eyes slightly. The girl was intriguing, her long red hair fell over her small shoulders, her large eyes he could see from here, were a bright green and they sparkled with the excitement of the magic she seemed to be able to do. Does she know? He thought to himself. Does she know what she is? He moved closer to the window, but his movement appeared to have startled the girl. Her concentration broken the book fell to the table beneath it and she looked up sharply to the window. Her parents too looked towards the window where their daughter was gazing suspiciously. In the shadows Severus moved backwards quickly, and with one last longing gaze upon the house he turned and ran home. His heart was pounding as he reached his front door and knocked. How long had he been gone? A day?

"Mum" he breathed as she opened the door.

His mother didn't even look at him as she pulled him into the hall and closed the door behind him.

"Mum?"

The woman chose not to hear him as she walked towards the kitchen. Severus was at a loss, he was so prepared for her to be sobbing with relief at her son's safe return and was so ready to forgive her as she apologized that he didn't even know what to make of her icy reception. He realised that his Dad was watching the same film as when he left, he must only have been gone a few hours. Tears of anger started to prick at his eyes but he would not let her see, he ran up to his bedroom. He closed the door and took a few steeling breaths. He lay down on his bed, his arms by his side, fists clenched. She did not matter to him, because clearly he did not matter to her. He would not think of her. He would not let her hurt him. He breathed slowly and imagined an invisible wall being formed around his heart. He kept breathing and kept imagining the wall thickening. She was weak, she was a fool he did not need her. Finally when Severus felt not even the smallest urge to cry, he unclenched his fists and thought of the red headed witch on the nice side of town.


End file.
